The Making of a King
by JohnnyREB1977
Summary: The Story of Urgit after leaving Garion's company and the planned ambush of the Murgos by the Malloreans up until his meeting with Agachak.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Many of the characters in this story, as well as the story's setting, are the property of David and Leigh Eddings. As usual, I'm just playing around in their world.

The story begins just after Prala gives Urgit the sword of the last King of the Cthan Dynasty (King of the Murgos, paperback, pg. 335) and ends with the arrival of Agachak, Hierarch of Rak Urga, at the Drojim Palace (Sorceress of Darshiva, paperback, pg. 18). This is only Chapter 1.

**The Making of a King**

Chapter 1

Urgit and his companion traveled north as fast as their horses would take them. It wasn't fast enough for the Murgo King. His mind was filled with images of his troops, some slaughtered on the field of battle, others grotesquely wounded and crying out for their mothers. If those horrendous visions weren't distracting enough, Urgit continued to hear a noise akin to the sound of a bell ringing in the distance. The noise had begun almost immediately after he'd lost sight of Garion and his company. Urgit gritted his teeth and shook his head to try to rid himself of the sound.

"We'll get there in time," Prala half shouted her encouragement as she rode beside the King, mistaking his distraction for concern. Urgit spared a glance at her as she spoke and smiled his thanks at her words. His heart almost stopped as he looked at Prala and it took an extreme effort of will to turn his head back toward the road. The girl's dark hair flew behind her as their horses ate up the leagues. Her expression was grim, too grim for a face of such flawless beauty and innocence, but there was also a smoldering excitement in her eyes.

They'd gone thirty leagues by the end of the day. Their mounts were lathered with sweat and both Urgit and Prala were sore from the long ride which had been almost nonstop except for a few brief rests to water the horses and stretch their legs. Urgit scanned the area and frowned. "We'll be sleeping under the stars tonight," he told the girl. She nodded but remained silent. "Let's see what the Goodman packed for us to eat," the Murgo King went on. He quickly opened the pack of food and smiled. "Some venison and beans," he told Prala. "Filling enough."

The pair ate a quick, cold meal and started to bed down after Prala had checked their horse's hooves. Urgit was almost asleep when the bell-like noise he'd been hearing all day, and had finally learned to ignore, became louder and more insistent. He tried to cover his ears and turned onto his side, but to no avail. Suddenly he heard the sound of a stick breaking and instantly jerked up. His eyes widened as he saw four men, Mallorean deserters by the looks of them, glaring down at him and Prala, who lay asleep beside him. "What do you want?" Urgit demanded quietly. He partially succeeded in keeping the quaver from his voice. Slowly, his hand went to the hilt of the sword at his side.

"Everything you've got," one of the deserters answered. Then, he leered at Prala. "And we'll take her too." Urgit's eyes narrowed at that. He started to stand up, holding the sword tightly in his grip. The sapphire embellished hilt strengthened his wavering confidence and he quickly drew the blade from its scabbard. "Hand that over!" the Mallorean barked. "Now!" Prala jerked awake at the shout and stared at the intruders in seeming fear.

Urgit hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to do as the brigand said, but he also didn't want any harm to come to the princess. "All right," Urgit said, his voice as calm as he could possibly make it. His heart was beating in his hears and his palms were beginning to sweat. "All right. Just calm down. You can have whatever you want. But, don't hurt the girl." He handed the sword over hilt first. As he did so, three of the men moved to surround him and Prala. They were effectively boxed in.

The leader of the group smiled evilly and reached out. The moment his hand touched the hilt of the sword the sapphires flared, he let out an agonized scream, and backed away quickly, letting the blade drop to the ground. The two men by Prala were startled by the cry and, thus, weren't paying attention to the girl. Moving quickly, she leaped to her feet and kicked one of them between the legs before pushing the second away with all her strength. Before the first could get a hold of himself, Prala reached out and jerked the dagger from the man's belt. She immediately stabbed him in the neck as hard as she could and then turned to eye her other potential attacker, fear and anger widening her eyes. The man backed away quickly.

Urgit picked up his sword from where it had fallen. He was, admittedly, as startled as the four Malloreans were by what had just happened. However, he was ever ready to take advantage of a situation. Drawing upon his training as a youth, he crouched and swung at the wounded deserter, who was still clutching at his hand. Urgit's blade sliced through the man's chain mail and left a deep wound in his stomach. He turned to the other one closest to him and parried a strike to his head. He deflected a second and third strike and then, quite suddenly, he twisted his blade. The other man's hand and weapon went flying. Urgit stabbed him smoothly through the heart, slicing through chain mail, padded tunic and flesh easily. The last remaining deserter turned and ran as fast as he could.

"Good fight," Urgit panted. He grinned at Prala, a fox-like expression that gave his features a wicked cast. Adrenaline coursed through him and something else unidentifiable. Urgit cleaned his blade on one of the corpses and sheathed it. "Are you okay?" he asked the young woman.

"I'm fine," Prala responded in a shaky voice. "What happened?" she asked, eyeing his blade.

Urgit looked at it. "I'm not really sure," he said. But, a sneaking suspicion crawled in the back of his mind. He put the thought out of his head for the present and walked over to a tree stump to sit down. "Go back to bed," he ordered, adding, "I'm too excited to sleep. I'll keep watch until morning."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

They were up and off early the next morning. The sun had barely risen as they traveled, their horses' hooves trotting over dewy grass until they found the road heading north again. Urgit and Prala spotted a mass of foot, horse and wagon tracks heading along the road towards Rak Cthaka and occasionally passed small Murgo villages that had been put to the torch, their inhabitants crucified and left as a grim message to those soldiers or civilians who passed this way. The message was simple and crystal clear: Kal Zakath meant to exterminate the entire Murgo race.

By midday the road had led them to the western bank of the Cthaka River and they stopped to replenish their water supply. Urgit looked around as they dipped their bags into the river and sighed. "I _hate_ stinking Cthol Murgos," he said. "It's ugly and depressing." Urgit shook his head and stood up to find Prala staring at him.

"My father used to say that the things we truly hate are those that we truly have some love for," she told him with a sad smile as she remembered her late sire. "I have a feeling you love your kingdom fare more than you realize. If that is the case, and if you hate the ugliness and depression you see here, then _do something about it_." Urgit looked at her skeptically.

"Love for Cthol Murgos," he said incredulously. "I don't think so, my dear." Urgit laughed at the notion, mounted his horse and started off. "The day I love this place is the day Kal Zakath and Belgarion become friends." Prala shook her head, got onto her own steed and followed her lord.

They followed the road until sunset. It was at this time that they began to notice the smoke rising beyond the borders of the Great Southern Forest. "Gorut is burning," Urgit said bleakly. "Those tracks we saw this morning were most likely refugees from the city." The King wanted nothing more than to stop for the night, but the sight of the smoke spurred him on. Digging his heels into his horse's flanks, Urgit sped toward the smoke with Prala beside him.

They stayed to the edges of the forest, ready to go into the trees should they come up against any Mallorean soldiers; Malloreans were notoriously leery about fighting in a forest or in the mountains where the Murgos would be able to defeat almost any force brought against them. Around midnight they made their way to Rak Gorut to see a portion of the army firmly ensconced in the burning city, the flames slowly dying down as the enemy prepared to make the municipality useful for themselves. Urgit's sword sang loudly to the little man as they grimly watched Zakath's army. It, too, felt the danger and tension that sizzled in the air.

"The rest of the army has probably staged itself out on the plains by now. But, they'll not ambush anyone tonight," Urgit decided. "They're not night fighters." They moved back into the trees and Urgit got down off of his horse and removed his bedroll. "We'll sleep in shifts," he told Prala. "I'll take first watch." He pulled on his nose nervously. "An hour before dawn we'll strike out and try to find the remnants of the garrison here and those soldiers from Urga that General Kradak didn't take with him on the boats to Rak Cthaka."

Urgit awoke hours later to the touch of Prala's hand on his arm. The woman's other hand rested on the hilt of the sword she'd taken from one of the dead deserters their first night away from Garion's company. "I hear horses," she whispered. Urgit was up in an instant, his sword in his hand.

"Probably just a patrol making sure there are no surprises out here," he said softly. They quietly got their possessions together and mounted. Keeping their ears cocked for any noise and their eyes darting for the slightest movement, they waited. Soon, the sound Prala had heard became louder, the clomp of horse's hooves on the ground mixing with the jingle of chain mail and the occasional grunt. They moved through the trees as quietly as possible and watched. When the patrol was out of sight and ear shot, they rode along the edge of the woods and moved west as the sun rose until they came to the eastern tributary of the Cthaka River.

As Urgit suspected, his army was camped across the river near the plains. They would be up and ready to march soon. Urgit was about to say something when he heard a noise and looked back. Another Mallorean patrol had spotted them. Quickly, he and Prala found a shallow ford and crossed the river. In an hour they were near the edges of the encampment. A Murgo on a strong Algar horse - obviously stolen in a raid - halted them, drawing his sword. "Who are you and what do you want here?" he asked suspiciously.

Urgit rode up to him. "I am your king," he said evenly. Urgit held out his right hand in a fist, showing the signet on his ring finger. "Take me to your commanding officer immediately. I have news for him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

General Talka rose from his seat in his command tent in surprise - and some consternation - as Urgit entered through the flap. The other officers in the tent followed suit and all clasped their fists to their breastplates in salute. "Your Majesty," Talka said in his harsh Murgo accent. "Had I known you were coming out to the camp I would have prepared a proper welcome." He frowned. "But, you really shouldn't be here. This is a war zone." _And I don't have time to babysit you_, he added silently.

General Talka was a big man with short black hair and deep scars on his face from his ritual scarring as a child. He was already dressed for battle, as were all of his officers. At his side rested a huge broadsword with a well-worn leather grip. He spoke again with some measure of civility in his tone; he'd heard about how Urgit had suddenly seemed to change and how he'd bullied Talka's counterpart Kradak. "I did no hear you arrive Your Majesty. Normally your retinue makes quite a din."

"I am alone General," Urgit replied, further surprising Talka. "Save for the Princess Prala," the King amended. "It has come to my attention that the Malloreans have set an ambush for you. All the noise down in Cthaka and the sacking of Gorut were meant to draw you out onto the Plains of Morcth so that Zakath's troops could destroy this army."

"Pardon my asking, Urgit," Talka began, his skepticism overriding his courtesy towards his ruler. "But, where did you get such information?" He watched as Urgit bit his lower lip and smiled slightly. This was the Urgit he knew, the insecure man who was ruled by his mother.

"You doubt the word of your King?" a voice said sharply as Prala entered the tent. She had been determined to wait outside, but had rushed in impatiently at Talka's words. Talka scowled and almost ordered the woman out, despite her rank. Women had no place in an army and certainly had no place discussing subjects better suited to men. "He has told you of an ambush, a trap that could kill your men. Listen to him!"

The general slowly got his temper under control. "I am not questioning the King's truthfulness," he said patiently, with an apologetic glance at Urgit. "Nor am I doubting him. I _am_ doubting where he got his information." Talka turned his dark eyes on Urgit. "If you please, Your Majesty...This information is most important."

Urgit stood up straight. "I understand," he said. He hesitated and said, "The information came to me from Belgarion of Riva. He noticed the trap before I did." Urgit frowned at the looks on his officers' faces. "It is the truth," he insisted.

"And where did you see Belgarion?" one of the officers, a dirty looking general and survivor of Rak Gorut, asked derisively. "Did you go to Riva and suddenly appear here? Did Belgarion use his sorcery to appear to you? Tell us, my King, why would a barbarian **Alorn** even care about _our war_?" This last was said with a sneer of contempt on the man's face.

Urgit took a deep breath and suddenly gripped the hilt of his sword. "Belgarion is in Cthol Murgos," he told the assembled men. Looks of skepticism turned to stares of incredulity. Certainly Urgit was mad to make such a claim! Why would the Overlord of the West be here? "I don't have time to explain nor do I care to do so," he snapped. "Belgarion is here. He helped me to realize this ambush was about to occur and, because of that, _I_ am here." Urgit drew his sword. "Now, you _will_ prepare the men to return to Rak Urga." He turned to the general who had questioned him, pointing his blade at the man. Talka could have sworn he saw a flash of blue light. "Your men from Rak Gorut will be divided between the garrisons of Rak Urga and Rak Morcth. _You_ will accompany the army back to Rak Urga General-" he left it hanging.

"Chala, Your Majesty," the general answered him grudgingly. The man saluted again, banging his fist against his breastplate. "As you command, Your Majesty."

"Good," Urgit nodded. He sat down quickly. "Someone bring me ink, parchment, and wax," he ordered. "Bring me your best rider," he said to Talka. When his command was obeyed he began to write. As he finished, Urgit affixed his seal to the letter and rolled it up. He waited until the rider entered the room. "Take this letter to Rak Cthaka immediately." He paused. "It should take you no more than three days. Two days after that General Kradak should arrive with approximately one thousand men on ships. Give him this letter."

"As you command, my King," the messenger replied. He quickly left the room. Urgit smiled in satisfaction. In moments he and his commanding officers were discussing how long it would take to get the army up and marching back to Rak Urga.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was dusk the next day when Urgit returned to Rak Urga, riding at the head of his army with Prala on one side and General Talka on the other. The three were deep in conversation and the general's expression was tense, troubled, yet somehow hopeful. Barring the hope in the older man's eyes, the city of Rak Urga was almost a mirror of the general. The guards at the gate and on the walls were tense. Calloused hands held onto spears and swords tightly and grim, scarred faces stared out from the city, eyes darting everywhere as if expecting attack from all sides at any moment. "As you command, My King," Talka said respectfully as their conversation ceased.

"Good man," Urgit replied urbanely. The general smiled slightly and turned his horse back to confer with his officers. Urgit rode ahead a ways with the princess, past shops and homes where his subjects and a few foreigners - mostly Tolnedran merchants but possibly a few Drasnian agents as well - walked the streets, talking in hushed voices. They were nearing the center of the city, the halfway mark between the Drojim Palace and the Temple of Torak on either side of the city, when they were met by a group of armed Murgos on horseback. "Ah, Captain Karsah," Urgit greeted his captain of the guard amiably. "So nice of you to come greet us here."

"You're Majesty," Karsah responded flatly. "Oskatat sent me to escort you back to the palace." His gaze turned to Prala and he nodded politely. "Princess," he greeted her. "I trust you are well?"

"Tolerable, Karsah," she replied distantly. Prala had never held any regard for the man. "I note that you did not inquire as to His Majesty's health," she added, her tone and expression suddenly sharp. "Shouldn't that be high on your list of priorities, Captain?" she asked him. "You are, after all, charged with his safe keeping and good health." The young woman smiled sweetly and Karsah winced. Urgit just raised an eyebrow, staring at the man.

Karsah turned his attention back to Urgit, a condescending expression on his scarred young face; Karsah, at twenty-five, was one of the youngest guard captains in recent history. _I know what he's thinking,_ Urgit said to himself. _He's thinking that I need others to fight my battles for me. Well, that belief will change._ He held up his hand, forestalling anything his captain might say. "I'm well," Urgit told him. "Well enough, at any rate. Please take me to the palace." A part of him wanted to say "Please take me home" but the Drojim Palace had never really felt like home to him. It was a place full of madness, daggers and the death of his brothers all so that he might survive to someday rule a kingdom he'd grown to despise.

"As you command," Karsah said. Urgit knew that he'd intentionally left off any proper honorific. He shrugged, let his guards surround him and his fiancee, and followed them to the palace. Once inside he and Prala immediately asked as to the whereabouts of the Lady Tamazin and Lord Oskatat. They found the two in one of several large studies in the palace, sipping wine and talking quietly. Urgit put his hand on Prala's shoulder and waited, watching them.

The stiff expression the seneschal wore was softened in Tamazin's presence, as was his mother's normally aloof countenance. "I just worry for him so," Tamazin was saying. "He's been gone for days with Belgarion and his band and we've had no word." She sighed and took a sip of wine. "I should have never let him leave. I certainly should have objected more strenuously to Prala's leaving with him."

"Urgit is a grown man, Tamazin," Oskatat told her firmly. "And he's surrounded by some of the most powerful people in the known world. He's fine and so is the princess." He stood up and looked toward the entrance. "Aren't you, Your Majesty?" he asked. He chuckled. "Still eavesdropping on conversations, I see."

Urgit sighed. "How in Torak's name do you do that?" he asked. Urgit looked at Prala with a smile. "He's always been able to find me when I've been where I shouldn't have been." He walked into the room as Tamazin rose, her hand to her mouth the only sign of her surprise. The elderly woman walked to Urgit with stately grace and put her arms around him. Urgit returned her embrace and felt her trembling against him. Her grip on him became tighter. "I'm fine mother," he whispered in her ear. "I'm back."

Slowly, the Queen Mother released her son and stared into his eyes. "I have missed you, my son," she said. Gently taking his hand she led him into the study. "You will have to tell us about your journey."

Urgit nodded soberly while shaking Oskatat's hand. "In due time mother," he replied. His eyes widened slightly as Oskatat turned the handshake into a brief hug. "Why my Lord Seneschal," the King said lightly. "One would think you actually missed me." He laughed and hugged the old man tightly, slapping him on the back.

"I have, my King," Oskatat replied after breaking free of the hug. The two men stared at each other for a long moment. "In your absence I was forced to see to the day-to-day affairs of the kingdom," he said with a grimace. "Never go off like that again!" They all laughed at that and then Oskatat looked around. "Let's get comfortable so you can tell us about your adventure. Where is Belgarion? Is he well?"

"He is," Urgit said. He looked at Tamazin. "Mother, would it be all right if we used your quarters? The walls have ears, you know." The old woman nodded and they left the room.

It took over an hour for Urgit and Prala to tell their tale. Both Tamazin and Oskatat listened with baited breath as the story unfolded with both Urgit and Prala speaking, sometimes disagreeing with each other about details, sometimes reinforcing details of the story. They went on almost uninterrupted save for near the beginning when Prala mentioned Urgit and Kheldar's night of carousing on board the ship. "Urgit!" Tamazin said disapprovingly. "You _never_ drink like that. What possessed you?"

"Kheldar said he was helping me to get in touch with my Alorn side," Urgit said with a rueful look. "To be honest, I could have done without learning about that particular part of my heritage. My head was killing me, my mouth was thick and I was nauseous the next day." He shrugged slightly. "It was fun while we were doing it, though - I think," he added.

"You should have heard him, my Lady," Prala said brightly. "Kheldar and Urgit regaled Ce'Nedra and I with their singing." She smirked at Urgit. "I believe he invented several new notes," she went on, unknowingly echoing something Ce'Nedra had said years before about Garion. "You really shouldn't drink so much, Your Majesty," she finished with a prim look.

"Do you _mind_?" Urgit asked acidly. He sighed sadly and looked at the other two in the room. "Spending time with Ce'Nedra, Liselle and Polgara has thoroughly corrupted her," he told them. "I don't think she'll ever be the same sweet, innocent girl we once knew and adored."

"You still adore me Urgit," Prala told him confidently. She tossed her hair and smiled at him, laying her hand gently on his. It seemed to be an innocent gesture, but Urgit could almost feel a cold manacle sliding around his wrist. From the look on his mother's and Oskatat's faces they could see what he felt. However, the slight dread Urgit experienced was in no way seen on their expressions. In fact, the Lady Tamazin looked somewhat pleased and Oskatat was thoroughly amused.

The story ended and then Urgit sat up, looking serious. "There is something I'd like to discuss with the two of you," he said slowly. "And you, my dear," he added with a look at Prala. All three looked at him expectantly. "During our travels Belgarion gave me some advice," he went on. "He told me, fairly bluntly, exactly what I was doing wrong as King. I intend to rectify those mistakes."

They sat for hours talking, eating a small supper there in Tamazin's quarters after Urgit had called in a servant to fetch them food. When they were done Tamazin and Prala looked at Urgit, impressed; Oskatat, too, was impressed, but also dismayed by one portion of Urgit's plan. "They'll be able to hear the screams from here to Melcene," Oskatat predicted as he tried to maintain a positive outlook.

"I know," Urgit said merrily. "Isn't it grand? We have to play this carefully." Urgit's nose began to twitch. "But, there are some things that must be attended to as soon as possible."

Urgit rose the next day and dressed in Western style clothing. His doublet was red, trimmed in blue and his hose were blue. At his side was his sword, its sapphires glowing brightly and its bell tone ringing muted in his ears. He immediately went to the kitchens to eat a quick breakfast, his guards following along behind him. As he was eating Oskatat approached with a sheaf of papers in hand. "What do you have for me today, Oskatat?" he asked.

"The usual, Your Majesty," Oskatat said. "A meeting with the Tolnedran ambassador regarding yet another alteration of the current treaty with the Empire, the Royal Treasurer would like to have a word with you, and Princess Prala has asked if you would like to go riding today."

"Gods," Urgit sighed. He stood up, tossed down his napkin and frowned. "We'll put off the ambassador until later - tomorrow if possible. I'll meet with the treasurer immediately." Urgit gestured to one of his guards to approach. "Please inform Her Highness that I will be at her disposal sometime this afternoon." The guard nodded and walked off.

"Come with me," Urgit commanded his seneschal. He went into the throne room, followed by Oskatat and his guards, pulled on his ponderous robes of state and picked up his crown. Shaking his head, the little man tossed the heavy adornment onto his throne and waited, leaning against the hard chair nonchalantly. Oskatat picked up the crown and quietly handed it to his sovereign. "I'll have a beast of a headache within the hour," the King said accusingly. Sighing, Urgit put the heavy crown on. His mind was moving a mile a minute, revisiting old plans, editing them as necessary, and formulating new ones.

It wasn't long before the Royal Treasure, an arrogant Murgo with very little imagination and too much ambition named Kalef, entered the room. His robes, under which jingled chain mail, swished as the broad shouldered money handler stalked up to the throne. The robes were a necessary part of his job; they made Western diplomats and merchants more comfortable than if Kalef were merely dressed in the usual Murgo chain mail. "I believe we have a problem Your Majesty," he said.

"You believe we have a problem?" Urgit echoed, glancing at Oskatat out of the corner of his eye and smiling slightly. "We're at war with boundless Mallorea. Kal Zakath, Emperor of Mallorea, wants nothing less than our complete eradication from the face of the world. Recently, a Grolim priestess tried to raise a demon in order to supplant her spiritual leader - for which she paid dearly, I might add. The people are tense and scared, the Tolnedran ambassador seems to be interested in taking advantage of the situation _again_, and I'm being pursued by a sixteen-year-old Princess who most likely wants to ruin her life and mine by marrying me." He raised an eyebrow. "So, what problem have you brought me today, Lord Treasurer?"

Kalef seemed taken aback. Slowly, he walked forward and began to speak. "It is actually Ambassador Valis I wished to talk to you about," the treasurer said. "It has come to my attention that the ambassador and diverse Murgo merchants are trying to upset the timber market. They have bought out several small loggers around the kingdom. That in and of itself is not too worrisome, Your Majesty. The real problem is that these same merchants have systematically been buying up the surrounding mills. They use their new acquisitions to undercut independent loggers and then charge exorbitant prices to those businesses that need the lumber." He paused. "The exception to this extortion is the Tolnedran Empire. Ambassador Valis has seen to it that they have a very lucrative deal with these merchants."

"Take them back," Oskatat suggested. Urgit and Kalef looked at him curiously. "You're the King," the seneschal explained. "Technically everything in Cthol Murgos belongs to you anyway, so take the mills from these merchants." He shrugged. "They'll whine and curse your name, but there's really nothing they can do about it."

"That's not a bad idea," Urgit agreed. He furrowed his brow in thought. Suddenly, he looked at the Lord Treasurer. "Buy them," he amended. "Make it seem that the merchants are getting the best of the deal but don't really let them." He smiled. "Then sell the mills back to their previous owners at a reasonable price. That way everybody wins; the merchants are happy, the mill owners are happy, and no one wants to kill me. As for the loggers themselves, leave that part of it alone for now." He scratched his chin. "But, we need to write up a new law. No merchant or group of merchants can ever do anything like this again." He waved his hand negligently. "You know how to write it up, Kalef. Take care of it."

"As you wish, my King," Kalef said. He bowed low and left the room. Urgit stretched. He took his crown off again, ignoring the look of disapproval on Oskatat's face. Stepping away from the throne he walked toward his captain of the guard.

"We'll talk more at dinner Oskatat," Urgit said to his friend. "I need to speak with Karsah." The small man walked off and gestured for his guards to follow him. "Walk beside me, Karsah," he ordered the captain. When the younger Murgo was at his side, Urgit continued. "I need your help."

"I live to serve, my King," Karsah replied in a neutral tone. He still smarted from the Princess's rebuke the day before. The soldier kept his gaze straight ahead, one hand resting casually on his sword. As always, Karsah seemed the epitome of Murgo manhood. His chain mail was oiled and bright, without a hint of rust; Urgit knew the same would be true of the sword in its scabbard at his side. His conical helm gleamed and his face was smooth, without even the ghost of a beard. The other guardsmen behind Urgit and Karsah were the same. The captain of the guard led a disciplined company. "What assistance can I offer?"

Urgit deigned not to answer until he walked outside onto the training grounds adjacent to the palace and drew his sword. "As you probably already know," Urgit stated, "the Princess Prala and I were ambushed by Mallorean deserters on our way to warn the army." Karsah nodded warily, eyeing the sword in Urgit's hand. The other guards also stared at the exposed weapon curiously. "It is mere luck, and no skill of mine, that we survived that encounter," Urgit said bluntly. "I am, to put it mildly, rusty with the blade Karsah. As captain of the guard and the best swordsman in the Drojim Palace you will assist me in sharpening my skills."

Karsah was silent a moment as he took in Urgit's words. "As you wish, My King," he finally responded. Before Urgit could say anything - before the King could hardly blink - Karsah's sword was out and Urgit was working hard to keep his head on his shoulders. The ring of steel on steel continued for a mere two minutes before Urgit was disarmed and pushed onto his back. "The use of the word 'rusty' is a kindness," Karsah told Urgit, again in that damnably neutral tone. "If this had been a real fight, my King, you would have been dead after the second stroke."

"I stand corrected then," Urgit said, feigning a jocular tone. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he stared at Karsah. Suddenly, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. "Don't touch that," he barked, halting the guardsman who was about to pick up Urgit's sword. Walking over quickly, Urgit picked up the blade. He glanced around at the others. "No one is to ever touch this blade," the King said gravely. "Is that clear?" There was a general murmur of agreement and Urgit sighed in relief. He could clearly see in his mind one of his guardsmen or servants innocently picking up the newly ensorcelled blade and hurting himself. Urgit turned back to Karsah, raising his blade in a defensive position. "Again," he ordered.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was several days later when General Kradak returned with his ships and those men that he felt were not necessary for the defense of Rak Cthaka. Urgit, who had been sparring with Karsah, immediately convened a meeting of the High Command upon hearing of the General's return. He bathed and, in deference to this meeting, donned a more Murgoish attire than normal. He winced each time he tried to make himself comfortable, the chain mail biting into his flesh. As had become customary for Urgit, his sword was belted at his side.

When all were in attendance Urgit sat, followed by the rest, at the large oak table in the council room. "Thank you all for your prompt appearance," Urgit said by way of greeting. "I would have liked to have had this meeting upon my return, but circumstances did not allow for a full convening of the High Command." He stared around at each General, men selected by the late unlamented Taur Urgas, and tried to form his thoughts. By the end of this meeting there would be changes, both militarily and governmentally, and not all would be pleased. Thankfully, Urgit knew he had a convert in Talka, who was well respected among both officers and soldiers.

"What is this about Urgit?" Brala, a hawk-nosed General demanded to know. "Why do you call us here when we need to be out trying to win this war?" Several others nodded in agreement. Only Talka and Kradak remained silent, the latter looking somewhat hesitantly at the King before speaking up.

"'Your Majesty'," Kradak said reproachfully to his colleague. Brala stared at him incredulously and Kradak shrugged. "He is our King," the General continued. "The Mighty Arm of Torak. We should be more respectful." Kradak turned his gaze to Urgit - and quickly to Oskatat - looking for some sign of approval. Urgit almost laughed at the change in the man. It seemed that the seneschal's threat to take his head had worked wonders on Kradak's personality.

"Thank you, Kradak," Urgit said with a wide smile. He turned to Brala. "As to your question, Brala, I have called you here to talk about the war and about the government in general." Urgit placed his hands on the table. "It's going badly," he said flatly. "We almost lost our whole army to an ambush that we should have foreseen." He paused. "That is no one person's fault. We all share the blame. I just thank the Gods that the danger was pointed out to me before it was too late."

"The cause is simple, my friends. For too long all power has been consolidated in the throne. Every decision must be made by whoever sits on that accursed chair." Urgit shook his head, looking around. "No more. From now on, I will deal directly with only the most urgent of matters." He turned to Oskatat and could see the older man's jaw clench along with his fists. He knew what was about to come. "As of today, the government and the military will share a similar chain of command. Officers and magistrates will be given more latitude to see to their own problems, bringing only those issues they feel most important up the chain of command. In the case of the military, those decisions will be made by the High General. Your new High General will be Talka."

Urgit looked around, trying to gauge his officers' reactions. All were shocked, but many more seemed amenable to the idea than the King originally thought. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Regarding the government, Oskatat has always been my good friend and advisor. He will continue in that role. Moreover, the office of seneschal is expanded so that he may make day-to-day decisions _in Rak Urga_ without constantly having to consult me. He will also have the right to work with the Governors of the other cities whenever necessary."

"These are sweeping changes, my King," a General by the name of Jalak spoke up. "Since Cthol Murgos has existed we have placed all power in the hands of the King," he went on, ignoring the truth that most decisions were _not_ made by the King but by Ctuchik of Rak Cthol. Over the years many Murgos had been trying to forget that the old sorcerer had ever existed. Urgit privately believed that, were it not for fear, the Grolims in Cthol Murgos would have been eliminated immediately following Ctuchik's death. Perhaps now that those mysterious activities in the Temple had occurred things might change. _Another reason to thank Belgarion_, Urgit thought to himself. "I agree that what you suggest is a good idea," he went on carefully. "But, should we not use more moderation in the implementation of the idea?"

"First," Urgit replied, and his face took on a serious, even grim, aspect. "Nothing that I said should be considered a _suggestion_, General. I am the King. When I speak it is a _command_." Jalak blinked but said nothing. Many of the other Generals looked at Urgit with new respect. "Secondly, the changes I've brought to your attention will not occur over night. It will take time to implement them. With that time will come acceptance of the new way of doing things." He raised his hand before Jalak could speak again. "Kradak," Urgit said, turning to the newly returned General. "Give us your report. How did your voyage go?"

General Kradak rose, his hands behind his back. "It went well, Majesty," he said. "We made the trip in ten days, as expected. Very few of my men were ill, perhaps fifty out of over two thousand." Kradak stood up straighter. "Most importantly, Your Majesty, we were able to take a fleet of a dozen Mallorean ships by surprise as they were coming out of the Gorand Sea." He looked at his colleagues and liege ruefully. "It was only that surprise, along with numbers, that gave us victory, however. If they had been alerted to our presence we may well have been decimated due to lack of ability. But, with Torak's blessing we won and I was able to reinforce Rak Cthaka before my return. "

Urgit nodded as he listened, pleased by what he heard. "And what did you think of your time aboard ship, Kradak?" he asked intently. "You were passionate in your belief that 'ships sink' prior to your voyage and that 'Taur Urgas would not do things that way. Do you still feel the same?"

"In part Majesty," Kradak said slowly. Urgit gestured for him to continue. "Taur Urgas would _not_ have done things the way you ordered your Majesty. But, not all ships sink all the time. I believe that the study of naval warfare would be beneficial."

"Then begin your studies, Admiral," Urgit told him. Kradak blinked at the title and Urgit smiled. "From this moment you are High Admiral of the Navy of Cthol Murgos. All of the appropriate documents and medals will be made up." He stood, leaned forward, and clasped Kradak on the shoulder. "Build us a navy, Admiral."

The next few months kept Urgit busy as he worked to reorganize his military and government. The change did not come easily, but come it did and in time the new bureaucracy began to work like a well oiled machine and, while they were not winning the war by any means, the Murgo army was at least able to slow the Malloreans down. Kradak's navy, which was essentially made up of a fleet of ships divided between the Cthaka River and southern coast, was of tremendous value as they were able unload soldiers, whom they called mariners or marines, to important areas quickly and efficiently in order to push back certain portions of the Mallorean army.

It was a warm, bright day when Urgit, Kradak, Talka and Oskatat were going over their plans to try to retake Rak Cthaka and Rak Hagga in what had come to be called the "war room". Urgit was bent over a map, arguing a point with Talka, when a guard approached. "Yes," Urgit said absently.

"The Dread Heirarch Agachack is at the gate, Majesty," the guard informed the group. "He insists on being allowed entrance and on speaking with you immediately."

Urgit frowned. "What does -" he sighed. "The Prophecy," Urgit swore. He looked to Oskatat. "Here's what we're going to do..."

(the story continues in David Eddings' The Sorceress of Darshiva)


End file.
